There might never be a better time for a novel that gives voice to Kenneth Clarke's "feral underclass". Made in Britain introduces us to three young people on the brink of adult life, each desperate to escape from the depressed east Lancashire town where the book is set. These are troubled teenagers; victims of a society they are powerless to influence and who, in turn, mete out petty and not so petty injustices to the world that made them.

Russell is a sensitive romantic who writes love poems to a dead girl. His mother is depressed, his father walked out on them years ago, and though there's an opportunity to study in Leeds – a glittering city that might as well be a continent away – he's not sure he can cope with himself, never mind the rest of the world. Charlie is cleverer than he seems but is drawn into the murky world of drugs and crime, led by a desire for money. By tracing his interactions with the Asian gang he becomes embroiled in, Bower shows us Charlie's need for respect, friendship and a stand-in family whose loyalty and even love are a world apart from anything he experiences at home with his alcoholic father and cowed mother. Hayley is not quite as clever or canny; when she grows up, she wants to be famous. Bower portrays her vulnerability so well that the conclusion to her story, though inevitable, is desperately sad. Hayley's memories of her dead mother – the woman who advised her to stuff her face while she could, and then go out into the world and "earn her reward" – are among the most moving in the book.

Bower succeeds in making Charlie, Russell and Hayley distinct, memorable and engaging. But Made in Britain is at its least interesting when it attempts to provide explanations for its characters' actions. Bower crams his short novel with "issues" – closed libraries, Chinese manufacturing and its impact on the industrial north, alcoholism, domestic violence, unemployment, the cult of celebrity, drugs, teen single parents, racism and gang violence, school bullying and suicide. These complex issues are listed rather than examined, used as a backdrop rather than unpicked through action and event. This is especially so when Charlie's and Hayley's fathers make their set speeches – seen through the eyes of their disenfranchised children, these political statements seem even more didactic.

These are small criticisms of a book that captures not only what we already know about such "Everytowns" – lack of prospects, casual racism, boredom, the fact that the credit crunch hasn't made any difference because "this town's been in recession for twenny years, and what's anyone done about it?" – but also what we don't know, or need reminding of: the private terror of taking your place in a world that has already destroyed your parents, and the hopeless beauty of the familiar and forgotten landscape that traps you. "I'm up the canal, and can see the whole town from where I'm sitting. The old mills to my left, the rows of terraced houses boarded up now on that side of town, and the council blocks where Trafalgar Flats used to be, before they knocked them down. Straight ahead's the new bus station, lit up in purple."

That distant view of a lit-up bus station is the nearest most of Bower's characters come to real escape. Made in Britain does not wear its political interests lightly, but what makes the book special is its portrayal of the particular fates of three teenagers who stand for a generation while being utterly and completely themselves.